


That Healing Feeling

by ComyD



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: A little angst, Anduin is not amused, Anduin is the healer, Fluff, Injury Recovery, M/M, Saurfang lives, Zekhan was distraught, snuggles, start of a relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:47:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25410379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ComyD/pseuds/ComyD
Summary: Saurfang survives his Mak'Gora with Sylvanus, due to the skill of a certain healer.
Relationships: Varok Saurfang/Anduin Wrynn
Comments: 6
Kudos: 36
Collections: Lionfang Prompt Week





	That Healing Feeling

**Author's Note:**

> HE LIVES!

_ Pain _ . It’s the first thing he’s aware of as he barely clings to consciousness, so much pain. It feels as though his chest burns, he can hear the sounds, shouting, screaming, crying. He curses himself, _ he’s failed them _ , they trusted in him and his last ditch attempt to prevent bloodshed is going to get them all killed. Trying to get his body to move, proves futile; he can only lie there completely helpless, until finally sweet oblivion takes him into its embrace.

Saurfang opens his eyes slowly, it takes a great effort to adjust to not being in total darkness. His vision is somewhat blurred, but he can make out the familiar sights that indicate he’s in his own private quarters in Orgrimmar. His head spins as he tries to sit up, splitting pain at the back of his head causes him to groan weakly, his throat is parched and his voice cracks as he drops back onto his sleeping furs. He tries to recall the events that lead him here, Sylvanus, Mak’Gora… He should be, by all rights be dead. A quick assessment of himself reveals that his chest seems to be the main source of pain, he’s very aware that there are bandages around his chest. Steeling himself, he decides to try and sit up again, of course the pain is overwhelming, but this time he’s a little more prepared. A strong hand on his shoulder prevents him from moving though, in what feels like an age, he manages to turn his head only to be met with the worried gaze of Thrall.

“Easy now Varok, you’re still badly injured.” His voice is calm and placating, Saurfang lets out a small grumble but makes no effort to fight against the gentle pressure on his shoulder.

“What?” He manages to croak out, Thrall shakes his head, eyes darting to the other side of his sleeping furs…  _ How odd _ . About to turn to face whatever has Thrall worried, Saurfang is halted as something is pressed to his dry lips.

“Drink, slowly. It will ease the thirst, and help dull the pain.”

  
He takes a slow sip, whatever he’s been given is horribly bitter, but the cool liquid is a welcome relief on his parched throat. It doesn’t take him long to drain the cup of its contents, Thrall nods approvingly sitting back, eyes still focused across from him. The snap of a book being closed suddenly, almost causes Saurfang to jump, he gazes wide-eyed at Thrall, who looks very anxious, his eyes dart back to Saurfang and without a word he stands, shrugs apologetically and leaves.

There’s the clearing of a throat to his other side, and Saurfang cautiously turns his head, he’s sure his eyes almost pop out their sockets when he’s met with the sight of the Alliance King. Anduin Wrynn isn’t wearing his armour either, he’s dressed in a light tunic and dark trousers, his hair looks as though he’s been running his hands through it, the usual high tail he wears it in, in disarray. What really grabs his focus though is the face of the young man, sitting at his bedside. His face is pale, and drawn, eyes shrouded in shadow and red rimmed, the smile that’s normally ever present on his face is replaced by a frown, but there’s anger in those eyes, and it’s directed at him. 

“Wrynn?” He makes a strangled sound, hating how weak his voice sounds to his own ears. Anduin worries his bottom lip, setting aside the heavy book in his hand.

“You gave us all  _ quite _ the scare you know. I was sure we were going to lose you, Zekhan was most distraught.”

Saurfang squints, observing the boy king’s face. Those eyes are downcast, no longer staring at him, and he realizes that Anduin had been crying, that would explain the red eyes and puffy cheeks. He tries to reach out, his arm is like lead, it takes a great deal of effort before he finally manages to tap the young man's knee. Anduin starts ever so slightly with a small hand moving to rest over his.

“Why?” Anduin breathes out, eyes rising to meet him. Saurfang is left momentarily stunned by the deep sadness he sees there, Anduin Wrynn looks like a man who’s lived a thousand years and lost everything. He’s not sure how to answer the man, he’s not even sure what he’s being asked if he’s honest, his silence causes the king to let out a small sigh, though it could be a sob.

“What were you thinking, challenging her? _ Did you want to die? _ ”

  
_ Ah _ . So Anduin wasn’t pleased about his choice to challenge the Banshee Queen to Mak’Gora. He lets out a sigh of his own, his hand moves up to Anduin’s face, he tilts his chin to keep them eye level.

“Young King, you must understand, I chose the path I believed would lead to less bloodshed. Those who resided in Orgrimmar, were not all our enemy, I could not in good conscience drag them all into a war.”

  
Anduin blinks, but doesn’t say anything. Saurfang can see the beginnings of tears in those impossibly blue eyes.

“I have dedicated my life to the Horde, I would lay my life down, ten maybe even a thousand times if it meant saving it.” His throat is dry again and his voice continues to crack, but he doesn’t stop, he needs the young man to understand, one day he may after all be in a similar situation.

“Your father understood this.” He finishes, momentarily shocked by the hurt that flashes over the blonds face. Grief burns in those eyes and Saurfang wonders why the Alliance King would be here in the first place, why he would be angry…

“I guess I can’t fault you there… “ Anduin looks away, voice trailing off, Saurfang releases his chin and moves his hand to cup the little priest's face. Anduin lets out a small gasp and leans into his touch, it’s not an unwelcome surprise, if anything it feels right to Saurfang.

“You stopped breathing for a while. It was… I-” Now it’s Anduin’s voice that cracks, the young man pulls away from his touch, furiously wiping at his eyes with his sleeve. Saurfang’s arm drops back onto the furs, and he curses his body for failing him. He tries to sit up,  _ pain be damned _ , something about seeing the little blond so upset tugs on his heartstrings.

“No! Don’t move so much!” Anduin cries out as Saurfang finally props himself somewhat upright. He’s panting as if he’s run a mile and his chest burns. He eyes the bandages wrapped tightly around him, wondering if it was the work of the man beside him.

“You don’t make  _ anything _ easy, do you?” Anduin huffs, putting more pillows behind Saurfang’s back, and where had all these come from? He can’t help but roll his eyes at the mothering tone of the king, healers always think they have to treat everyone as if they are made of glass. He’s about to make a snappy retort back when he notices the way Anduin is pointedly looking at the wall, there’s a faint dusting of pink on his face, and Saurfang just gapes… What's caused this reaction?

“Wrynn?” He asks, voice hoarse, throat feels as if it’s on fire. Anduin jumps and hastily moves to the table in the room, he fills another cup with water, and slowly hands it to Suarfang.

“Drink, slow.” Anduin commands, eyes watching his face intently. Saurfang feels a little unnerved having the little blond so close, he can’t help but take the opportunity to properly admire him.

It feels like a lifetime ago, when the young king had first approached him in the cell. He had been foolish to come alone, and better yet enter the cell, but Saurfang had to grudgingly admit that the boy’s courage was unwavering. For someone so young, Anduin had faced challenges many would find daunting, and yet he never lost that kindness. Saurfang can’t help but be slightly envious of him, he wonders if Varian Wrynn would be proud of the man his boy’s become. He bites back a snort, it’s hard to imagine the elder Wrynn approving of Anduin’s actions, the boy had let him, a high class prisoner go, with nothing more than good faith that he would help take Sylvanus down. What’s more the boy had sent his spymaster and Proudmoore to rescue Baine, who by all counts was an enemy, and of course the fact Anduin had handed him Shalamayne to use in his Mak’Gora. He didn’t really know what to make of Anduin, but the boy stirred something in him, he’d thought long-lost…  _ Hope _ . Hope that for the first time, there could be peace, that Azeroth could be saved. 

“Saurfang?”

He’s brought out of his reflections by the small voice of Anduin. The young king looks concerned, whatever shyness he had felt is clearly forgotten as a small hand presses against his forehead.

“Good, there’s no fever. But, maybe you should lie back down.”

He lets out an indignant huff, he’s not tired, if anything having the High King there makes him more awake, his traitorous eyes, greedily committing every detail of the boy to memory, for this can not last, in a few days, or even hours the boy will leave, and that will be that. 

“What happened after?” He finds it easier to keep his sentences short, and Anduin seems conflicted, clearly debating between making Saurfang rest or answering his question.

“Well… to paraphrase, I’m sure the other’s will give you a more detailed account later, she told us all we were nothing, then she flew off… _ Did you know she could do that? _ Anyway, we thought you were dead and then you weren’t, so we brought you into Orgrimmar, because well, they all saw Sylvanus abandon them…”

  
Saurfang’s head hurts, Wrynn has a very sloppy way of recounting events, he probably will ask Thrall or Baine later. If anything he’s relieved that there was no fighting, that Anduin was allowed to stay at his bedside though… Well that is quite the feat.

“Why, are you here?” He can’t contain his curiosity any longer, Anduin turns an interesting shade of red, eyes looking away shyly.

“I was the one who healed you… Thrall helped too, but they thought it best I stay until you woke… Like I said Zekhan was distraught and well…”

  
Saurfang hums, eyeing Anduin as the pieces fall into place. It brings a strange fluttering to his own chest, and he can't help but reach out and tilt that face back to him, smug satisfaction at the wide-eyed stare of the little king.

“ _ Zekhan _ was distraught… I see.”

Anduin flushes more, and he can’t help the smirk that comes to his face, finally the king meets his eyes with his own.

“OK, fine. _ I _ was… upset too. Are you happy?”

There’s a pout on that face, and Saurfang wants to laugh, but he doesn’t, because having his ribs ache while his healer is angry, is like playing with fire. Instead, he acts on his instincts, pulling the blond towards him and taking his lips. Anduin makes a small noise in the back of his throat but melts against him, and isn’t that a relief, he’s not sure what he would have done if he’d read that wrong. They finally break apart, and Saurfang can’t help but stare at Anduin’s, kiss swollen lips… maybe he was a  _ little _ rough. The young king is wonderfully flushed, a hand reaches up to touch his lips gently, eyes locked on Saurfang.

“You still have to rest.” Anduin deadpans at him, and he does let out an amused grunt at that, he may be a king, but he’s definitely a healer first, Anduin beams radiantly at him.

“They were talking about doing away with the warchief title.” Anduin says carefully, no doubt gauging his reaction. Saurfang finds that he isn’t too terribly bothered by the notion, the title seems dated.

“What are they going to replace it with?” He asks genuinely curious, Anduin gives him a small smile, he’s still blushing like a maiden, which Saurfang finds very satisfying, and the look in his eye has brightened.

“They were thinking of making a council, having a member of each Horde race represent their people in making decisions.”

Saurfang blinks at that, that foreign notion of hope taking root once more. He recalls his conversation with Anduin in the ruins of Theramore, they had spoken of breaking the cycle. This seems like a good step forward. He feels so very overwhelmed at that moment, Anduin’s hand rests on his own.

“I told you, we  _ can _ break the cycle. I’ve already had treaties drafted to bring about an end to this war… it will be difficult but I know we’re on the right course. I suppose I should be thanking you… If you hadn’t… then I don’t know what would have happened.”

Saurfang finds the babbling oddly endearing, though there’s only so much he’s willing to endure, and with the young king inches away and receptive to his feelings well…

Anduin squeaks as he’s pulled in for another kiss, Saurfang lays claim to that mouth, taking full advantage as Anduin submits to him. The little king moans lightly, hands grasping his shoulder, Saurfang grunts, attempting to push Anduin down onto the sleeping furs, kisses no longer feeling like enough. 

“Hey! Wait! You’re still injured… Stop!”

  
To his disappointment Anduin breaks free, he’s panting harshly as he straightens his tunic which Saurfang had already begun to pull upwards. Saurfang laments the loss of that pale expanse of unblemished skin. Anduin levels him with a stern glance.

“Do you want to die! I’m not even sure what she used on you, I’d rather not have you straining yourself so soon, it would hardly be romantic if your heart gave out halfway through!” Anduin admonishes him, but Saurfang just arches a brow, acutely aware of the small sting the action brings. Anduin frowns and sighs exasperatedly, fishing around for something before coming back with a salve. He applies a generous amount to his brow, the liquid is rather cool on his skin.

“Did you forget she cut you? Look I’m not adverse to such things, but only after you’ve healed.” Anduin chastises him, and he can’t help but grin, well that’s one thing to look forward to at least.

“Honestly, I’m fine.” He grunts as he attempts to turn to prove his point, but the pain in his chest hinders him, and he’s sure his grin is now a grimace. Anduin arches one of his own brows and shakes his head fondly.

“ _ Honestly _ , I thought my father was a difficult patient. Must be a warrior thing. Please lie back down.” Anduin playfully bats his hand away when Saurfang reaches for him again, despite how sore he is he can’t help the weak laugh that bubbles out. He’s so strangely happy, Anduin takes his hand placing a gentle kiss to his knuckles before laying it down on the furs.

“You could always join me… Not for  _ that _ , but to sleep.” He enjoys the sceptical look on the young man's face, but he means it, Anduin looks as though he hasn’t slept much, he holds open his furs and weakly pats the open space at his side. 

Saurfang is pleasantly surprised when Anduin shirks off his boots and does join him, it’s strangely comforting, the way the young man nuzzles against him. He can’t recall the last time he shared sleeping furs with another person, probably the last time was his mate… he feels at ease with the little king, which should be strange, but he can’t bring himself to care, for now they are both alive, and the future to him, seems that much brighter. Of course there are many things that need to be discussed and dealt with, Teldrassil for one thing, the Horde needs to make amends. But for now, he just wants to enjoy the moment, grateful for once that he’s survived, if only so he can be with the young man beside him.

“You’d better get some sleep, because I promised Zekhan he could see you. I don’t know if I mentioned it, but _ he was distraught _ … If you thought I was bad well…” The blond giggles and presses a tender kiss on his shoulder, those blue eyes already beginning to droop closed as he snuggles as close as possible. Saurfang sighs, not sure what his next waking hour will bring, but for now he’s only too happy to let sleep take him once more.

  
  


  
  


  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Just so you know, Zekhan was very distraught.


End file.
